


Big Spoon

by Emela



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blushing Derek, Comeplay, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dirty Talk, Fluff, M/M, Massage, Needy Derek, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Shy Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:06:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3512915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emela/pseuds/Emela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there is anything Stiles has learned from being forced to watch romantic comedies with Lydia since Freshmen year, it’s that when you begin to fall for someone, it usually starts with their smile. Or their eyes. Or even their <em>ass. </em>What all those hours do not prepare him for is falling head over- why-am-I-getting-a-boner-from-this- heels because of a blush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Spoon

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like it Anon! <3

If there is anything Stiles has learned from being forced to watch romantic comedies with Lydia since Freshmen year, it’s that when you begin to fall for someone, it usually starts with their smile. Or their eyes. Or even their _ass._ What all those hours of internally groaning at guys who wear the term “friend zoned” like a war veteran’s medal and get the love of their life in the end anyway does not prepare him for, is falling head over- why-am-I-getting-a-boner-from-this- heels because of a blush. That’s right- a _blush._

Derek Hale’s blush has been ruining Stiles’ life since he first introduced himself to Stiles during orientation week.

He had walked in to their new dorm room carrying only one box, caught sight of Stiles, dropped it and then proceeded to stumble over it, somehow managing to do the whole thing with perfect grace and poise that made Stiles want to write 10.0 on the nearest piece of paper he could find and hold it high above his head.

Derek had lifted his head and hand at the same time, presumably to shake Stiles’ hand, but what Stiles noticed instead (see: got terribly distracted by) was the beautiful pink flush that began to creep up Derek’s neck, exploding onto his cheeks in a way that made Stiles want to pounce and lick and _bite._

“Derek,” Derek had said, looking away shyly. Unfortunately for Stiles, who’s only experience of extremely beautiful people looking at him, let alone talking to him, didn’t go beyond Lydia chose that moment to gape like a fish instead of replying.

As a result, Derek has avoided talking to him ever since. (It’s not that Stiles hasn’t _tried,_ but every time he says something Derek just gives him a shy smile and blushes furiously making Stiles forget what he is trying to talk to him about in the first place.)

He puts the blushing- and Derek’s apparent lack of social skills- down to some form of social anxiety. Every party that comes up, he stays in. Every time Stiles suggests he join him and Scott for pizza, he freezes, shakes his head and lifts up the nearest book, like that’s all the excuse he needs to give.

At least, Stiles _thinks_ it’s social anxiety until he comes home early from his cancelled Folklore class, eight-two days later after they met. (Shut up, he’s just got a good memory, okay?)

“I don’t want to touch that money, Laura.” Derek’s voice is coming from the closet and Stiles wonders if he always takes his calls in there even when Stiles isn’t home. He sounds upset and maybe a little angry and Stiles is just about to walk right back out the door when the closet door flies open and he’s faced with a naked chest and- nope, he can’t see anything past the chest.

“Sorry,” Derek says, ducking his head and bringing his arms up to cover himself. He doesn’t move to get a t-shirt or anything and Stiles really wants to be a good guy and throw him the one hanging over the chair beside him, but he’s kind of an asshole and Derek has abs that make him look more like an Adonis than he already is.

“I’m the one that walked in on you, dude,” Stiles says, raising his eyes to Derek’s face and _fuck,_ there’s the blush again.

“Could you stop that?” he cries, the brain-to-mouth filter that he has been trying so hard to keep in working order lately deciding this would be the perfect moment to malfunction.

“Stop what?” Derek asks in a small voice and Stiles’ heart sinks because he’s pretty sure Derek is already close to crying from his phone call and now he’s just making it worse. _Great, Stilinski. Just awesome._

“Nothing,” Stiles says, deciding to grab the t-shirt on the back of the chair after all. Walking over to Derek, he hands it to him and Derek accepts it with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Well, if that’s all-” Stiles starts to say, turning around to escape, but he’s cut off by a choked sob that he’s certain Derek hadn’t intended to let out.

Returning to face him, Stiles watches as Derek sits on top of his bed, t-shirt still in his hand and Stiles’ stomach twists when he sees tears beginning to stain it.

“Derek?” he asks, walking back over to stand in front of him.

“My family died in a fire four years ago,” Derek says, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “My sister Laura and I were the only ones not in the house at the time. We were given insurance money. Enough to buy whatever. But I can’t touch it. We’ve never wanted to touch it and now”- he scrunches up his face and presses the heel of his palms into his eyes- “now some company want to tear down what’s left of the house to build a fucking _play area_ or something.” He struggles to breathe and Stiles crouches down in front of him, taking his hands in his own. It seems to help him- help him a lot- and Stiles wonders just how long it’s been since Derek has been comforted by someone. Talked to someone.

“Laura says we could use the money to purchase the land, but that’s not what- I don’t know what my parents would want.”

“Is that why you don’t go out?” Stiles asks. “Moving on isn’t a crime, you know. That’s what they would want the most. For you not to be stuck in the past.” Derek looks up at him like he can’t believe what Stiles has just said. Stiles can’t even believe what he’s just said, but every “I’m sorry” he got after his mom died was like adding further salt to the wound. He can never bring himself to say those words to anyone because of it.

Instead of moving away from him, like Stiles thinks he will, Derek leans forward and presses his mouth to Stiles’. It’s a short kiss, closed mouth and when Derek pulls back his cheeks are the most beautiful shade of pink he’s ever seen.

“Are you always this shy?” Stiles asks, leaning back into him and placing a kiss to the side of his mouth. Derek breathes out shakily.

“Pretty much. I think you make it worse though.” He frowns, crossing his arms in front of himself again and it’s just _adorable,_ like a little kid who’s afraid he’s done something wrong.Stiles has never been into shy types, preferring to lust after unobtainable bombshells like Lydia and Danny. But something about Derek hooks and reels him in. “I get very nervous around you,” Derek adds on a whisper.

Stiles laughs.

“Is _that_ why you don’t talk to me?” Derek’s blush deepens and Stiles can’t resist, he closes the remaining space between them and licks a stripe up one rosy cheek. He can taste the tears there and does the same to the other one, washing them away, as his hands begin to skim lightly over Derek’s chest.

Derek’s body shudders.

“Can you…can you keep doing that?” he asks.

“Touching you?” Stiles smiles, pushing Derek back down onto the bed. “Yeah, yeah I can do that.” Derek offers him this grateful smile in return, eyes searching his face like he’s waiting for Stiles to say he’s just kidding and walk way. It makes Stiles want to wrap him up in his arms and spoon the fuck out of him, but his growing hard on has other plans. Plans he hopes Derek is fully on board with.

“Have you ever…?” he asks, splaying his fingers out, enjoying the way Derek’s chest rises and falls unevenly under them.

“Hand jobs and stuff like that in high school,” Derek says. “Nothing since. Is- is that okay?” Stiles bites back the laugh that wants to burst forth from his lips. He has a feeling Derek might think he’s laughing _at_ him if he does.

“I think you’re perfect,” Stiles says instead, lowering his mouth to suck a mark just below Derek’s ear. Derek whines at the sensation, or maybe the words, and Stiles can feel him harden beneath him. “I could show you a few things if you like.”

Derek’s eyes light up at that and Stiles notices for the first time he can’t tell what colour they are. He always thought they were green before, but now there’s flecks of brown and grey there too. They’re mesmerising and Stiles just knows next time he gets drunk he’s going to embarrassingly start waxing poetry about them. Lydia will probably film the whole thing and put it on YouTube.

“You have something specific in mind there, cowboy?” Stiles asks, watching the way Derek’s lips open and close, like he wants to say something, but doesn’t know how. Derek twitches in his pants and Stiles raises an eyebrow. “Terms of endearment do something for you?”

Derek’s whole face flushes and Stiles can’t help but laugh this time.

“No, that’s good. I’m just trying to figure out what you like,” he says, moving one hand down Derek’s body until he’s cupping him through his pants.

“Stiles,” he breathes, closing his eyes and biting down on his lip. It’s the sexiest thing Stiles thinks he’s ever seen, his own erection straining painfully inside his jeans now.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Stiles whispers, nipping along Derek’s jawline and then soothing the marks left behind with his tongue. Derek shakes his head. “No?” Stiles asks. “What do you want, _baby_?”

Derek’s cock twitches again and Stiles wants to rhyme off a whole string of pet names just to see if he can get him to come in his pants, but then Derek’s hauling him up by the shoulders and crashing their mouths together again, whining as he does.

“I want you to rim me,” he breathes against him. “I want you to rim me so badly. Been thinking about it since the first day I met you.” It’s Stiles’ eyes turn to light up this time. The few guys he’s been with that wanted him to top were always too impatient to let him rim them for long and rimming is Stiles’ _favourite_ thing to do. He even tried it on a girl once, but she wasn’t as responsive as he had hoped.

“Fuck, yeah, I can do that. I can _so_ do that.”

Derek already looks properly debauched when Stiles pulls back from him, pupils dilated and skin flushed and it does things to Stiles. Wonderful, weird things he never wants to stop.

Standing up, he makes quick work of Derek’s sweatpants, pulling them off hurriedly along with his boxers before practically ripping off his own clothes and crawling back on top of his very _hot_ and evidently _uncut_ roommate.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Derek whispers, hands running up and down Stiles’ sides. “Please, please Stiles, I need-”

“Hush,” Stiles cuts him off, but Derek shakes his head.

“I need you to touch me. Please,” he whimpers. “Just touch me.” He’s not asking Stiles to touch his cock. Stiles knows what _that_ impatient tone sounds like and this is not it. No, there’s something behind Derek’s words, Stiles realises, something beyond just needing Stiles’- or maybe anyone’s- hands on him. Something not quite sexual and Stiles thinks back to how Derek always sleeps with an extra pillow, never acknowledging it at first, but then as soon as he falls asleep how his body wraps around it like an octopus.

 _Something to hold at night,_ Stiles thinks and even if this is only a one-time thing for Derek, even if he doesn’t want to do this again, Stiles is _so_ going to snuggle into him every night. Cuddle-buddies. That’s a thing, right? If not, he’s going to at least hug him more. Or, you know, start hugging him anyway.

Guiding Derek a little further up the bed, Stiles pushes at his legs, bending him back and exposing his hole, running his hands up and down Derek’s thighs, caressing them as he lowers his lips to press gentle kisses to his calves.

Derek trembles slightly at the action, a gentle smile easing its way on to his face until he catches sight of Stiles staring at him and looks away, embarrassed.

“Turn over for me,” Stiles says, getting an idea.

Derek does as he’s told with the help of Stiles’ hands, head resting on folded arms, looking like one of those television models that lie on the beach, advertising sunscreen (and sex appeal).

Despite the fact his mouth is practically watering at the thought of getting his tongue inside Derek’s tight, pink hole, Stiles knows it can wait and reaching down to get a hand under the left side of the bed, fumbles around for the oil based lube Stiles knows Derek keeps there. (Stiles _may_ have tried it out on himself. Once. When Derek was at the library pulling an all-nighter and he was drunk and horny and couldn’t stop imagining what Derek’s hands would feel like stroking him. Sue him. The lube had been the closest he was going to get to that fantasy at the time.)

Derek spreads his legs a little, clearly anticipating the rim job he had been promised, but when Stiles’ hands come down on his back instead, rubbing in the liquid, Derek lets out a sound somewhere between a pleased sob and a sigh and Stiles gives himself a mental pat on the back.

“How about I give you a massage first?” Stiles whispers, leaning down to lick along the shell of Derek’s ear. “And as I’m doing it, what do you think about me fucking your thighs and then coming all over you?” Derek nods, clearly liking that idea and Stiles moves back to massage across the top of Derek’s ass. Derek’s fine, muscular ass that Stiles looks very much forward to playing with.

“Close your legs for me, sweetheart,” he says and Derek moans, doing as he’s told and lifting his ass at the same time, presenting himself. Stiles’ breath hitches.

“So perfect for me,” Stiles whispers, letting his hands trail back up Derek’s back once more, tracing lightly over the tattoo there when he reaches it. A triskele, and Stiles briefly wonders what it means to Derek as he slides one hand up his neck and into his hair, digging his fingers into his scalp and scratching slightly.

Derek lets out a surprised noise at that that sounds a lot like “please” and sliding back down to straddle his legs, Stiles slicks up his cock and pushes himself in between Derek’s thighs, revelling in how the hair there feels against his length as he slowly begins to fuck in and out of the tight space Derek has created for him. As he does, he continues to massage every visible inch of Derek’s skin, caressing his arms and the two dimples on his lower back, moving to slip his fingers under Derek, teasing his leaking cock.

“Oh,” Derek pants and Stiles does it again, letting his fingers brush over the head, enough to pull the sweetest kind of sound from him, before sliding both hands up to tweak at Derek’s nipples. They harden instantly at the touch and Derek’s hips rut helplessly just above the bed, seeking friction, but Stiles holds him up and Derek squeezes his legs tighter in response (or retaliation) and Stiles bites his lip and pulls out, needing to come, stroking himself a few times before leaning forward and spilling all over Derek’s back.

Derek makes a small sound and pushes himself down the bed, closer to Stiles.

“Can you rub it in?” he whispers, ears turning red at the request. “Wanna smell like you…wanna have you all over me. Please?” And who is Stiles to deny that?

“You like the thought of that?” he asks, mixing his come into the lube. “Filthy and used?” Derek nods shakily and rolling himself forward, puts his weight on to his shoulders as he lifts his ass up again and spreads his cheeks with his hands.

“Please,” he says again, panting a little, and Stiles’ dick makes a valiant effort to get hard again just from the sight.

“So needy,” Stiles whispers, pushing his thumb against the puckered hole, making Derek whimper. “Keep your hands there, okay? You look so beautiful like this, Derek. On show, just for me.”

“Just for you,” Derek says and Stiles just _knows_ how heated his cheeks become at the admission.

Shifting back, Stiles moves Derek’s legs until their as wide as they can go, tugging gently at his balls and enjoying the way Derek moans before licking a long, wet stripe over his hole, pulling back to blow hot breath across it. It clenches in response and Stiles’ eyes are drawn to the pre-come steadily dripping onto Derek’s black sheets below him, staining them white.

Reaching between his legs, Stiles takes Derek in hand, awkward as it might be, and gives him a few, gentle strokes, gathering the pre-come there and bringing it back to massage it over the tight ring of muscle on display.

“I want to taste all of you,” he whispers, teasing Derek’s fingers with his tongue. “I bet you’ll make the prettiest sounds with my tongue inside you, fucking you open.”

“Want to be loud for you,” Derek breathes and god, he sounds _broken._ Derek Hale and his stupid blush are ruining him for anyone else. God help him, he doesn’t want anyone else. Ever again. Just Derek and he really, _really_ hopes Derek feels the same way because _fuck._

Stiles doesn’t waste another second to finally get his mouth on Derek, bracing his hands on Derek’s splayed thighs as he pushes his tongue inside.

Stiles has never particularly liked the taste of anyone down there, just the act itself, but the way Derek tastes is different and for whatever reason so, so good that Stiles kind of wants to cry, but instead starts fucking Derek’s hole with _fucking intent_ \- pun totally intended- swirling his tongue and letting the saliva drip from his mouth, feeding it back into Derek’s hole, wanting him wet and dripping everywhere.

“Feels so good,” Derek whispers, moaning loudly, wanton and desperate, pushing his ass further back into Stiles’ face, trying to fuck himself on his tongue.

“Yeah? How good, Derek? Tell me how good it feels.”

“Can’t- Stiles, oh god,” Derek sobs. “Stiles. _Stiles_.” He goes to move his hand and Stiles lets him, replacing it with his own as Derek takes a hold of his own cock and starts stripping it, chanting Stiles’ name over and over again, burying his face further into the mattress as his muscles clench around Stiles’ tongue and then he’s coming in long, hot pulses.

Stiles is quick to turn him over, watching as Derek strokes himself through it, eyes closed and lips parted perfectly, his name still on them, although barely a whisper now.

When he opens his eyes and realises how he’s positioned, Derek immediately goes to cover himself up, but Stiles grabs his hands and pushes them above Derek’s head, sinking down over his body until they’re perfectly aligned.

“How can you still be embarrassed?” he asks, chuckling and leaning in to kiss Derek’s mouth. Derek kisses back, come-drunk and sloppy, before letting his head fall back with a sigh.

“You called me needy,” he shrugs, biting his lip and looking away. “I didn’t meant to be, I just-”

“I like that you’re needy.” Derek’s eyes widen, but there’s a spark of hope there, something Stiles wants to fan into a roaring fire.

“But the things I said-”

“Were hot. So hot, you have no idea. The image of you holding yourself open for me is going to wreck my sleep pattern for weeks. Possibly for the rest of my life.”

Derek laughs and blushes at the same time and Stiles’ stomach gets a hundred tiny butteries beginning to flutter in it. (He is so screwed.)

“Derek?” he asks, placing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Yes?”

“Do you think we could cuddle now?”

Derek’s face lights up, but he quickly schools it.

“You want to cuddle?” he asks, trying his best to sound indifferent and utterly failing. Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Of course I do, but on one condition. I get to be the big spoon.”

“Deal,” Derek whispers, a smile teasing his mouth as he turns on to his side, allowing Stiles to slip behind him.

Stiles tangles their legs together, pressing in close, wrapping Derek up in his arms as tightly as he can.

***

Later that night, Stiles wakes up to Derek putting away his extra pillow in the cupboard, smiling stupidly to himself and Stiles thinks this is what falling in love must feel like.

 

**Author's Note:**

> My [ tumblr!](http://pale-silver-comb.tumblr.com/)
> 
> (After a request, I now have a [sequel](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3697382/) if you feel so inclined to continue on this little college adventure!)


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